


golden age of something beautiful

by CoffeeKristin



Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 05:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11201604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeKristin/pseuds/CoffeeKristin
Summary: “We’re a fucking cliche,” Patrick says as soon as Jonny steps outside.“Here we go,” Jonny mutters, almost under his breath.Patrick and Jonny have an unexpected conversation on the porch of their summer cabin.





	golden age of something beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Hastily written, unbeta'd and angsty thanks to stupid trade rumors, but with a happy ending, as always.
> 
> Title from a Taylor Swift song. 
> 
> This is based on this gorgeous photo from the photo prompts:
> 
> <http://68.media.tumblr.com/3ce252f7be966da092fd223bed8c6a56/tumblr_inline_or4yt4T98e1thvwfu_500.jpg>

“We’re a fucking cliche,” Patrick says as soon as Jonny steps outside.

“Here we go,” Jonny mutters, almost under his breath. “Have a beer,” he says a little louder. 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks,” Patrick says ruefully.

They drink in silence for a minute before Patrick sighs and relaxes.

“You wanna tell me what’s got you so pissy?” Jonny asks, almost against his will. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Patrick tenses up again.

“I just…” Patrick sighs again. “Are we really this predictable?”

“I’m lost,” Jonny says honestly. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Tomorrow, us, this whole thing…” Patrick shrugs. 

“What?” An icy finger of worry traces across Jonny’s spine. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“Hell yes,” Patrick practically explodes. “Aren’t you?”

“No!” Jonny says, standing, his heart racing. “I have _never_ had a moment’s doubt about this, not from the moment we agreed — “

“But why did you agree to this?” Patrick says waving his hand around, looking defeated and unhappy. “This is just… it’s ridiculous, it’ll never work.”

“So you’re calling it off?”

“What?” Patrick looks up then, blinking at Jonny. “Calling it — Jon. It’s way too late for that. We have two hundred people arriving tomorrow, there’s no backing out now. No matter how much we want to.”

“But you want to call it off.” Jonny feels panic flutter through his system.

“Don’t you?” Patrick entreats, looking at Jonny earnestly. “Aren’t you sick of all of it? The plans, the families, the press questions? The whole fucking drama of the thing?”

“I— I thought it was worth it,” Jonny says hoarsely. He’s having a little trouble catching his breath at how quickly this conversation is racing toward something he can’t even bear to think about, let alone name. “I thought _you_ thought it was worth it, Pat!”

“I know! I know, I did, too!” Patrick says. “But now, it’s just…”

“It’s just what?” Jonny asks, and something about his voice must register because Patrick glances over at him sharply.

“Are you okay?” Patrick says, putting his bottle down and leaning in to press his hand to Jonny’s forehead. “You feel clammy and you’re white as a sheet.”

“No, I’m not fucking okay,” Jonny replies, slapping Patrick’s hand away. 

“Dude,” Patrick frowns. “What’s wrong with you? Are you getting sick?”

“Don’t fucking _dude_ me, Patrick. And I’m not sick, but pardon me if this is a lot to take in all of a sudden.”

“Jesus, and I thought I was stressed,” Patrick mutters.

“I wasn’t stressed until you decided to break up with me!”

Patrick rears back and blinks at Jonny, eyes wide and shocked.

“I —”

“On the fucking night before our wedding!” Jonny shouts, grateful now that they’re still alone at the cabin, families back at the hotel getting ready for the rehearsal. It means no one’s around to watch their relationship fall apart - to watch _Jonny_ fall apart - and he doesn’t have to worry that they’re gonna get overheard and find themselves in the tabloids tomorrow.

“I’m not — “

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Jonny says sharply. “You’re the one who pushed for this, you’re the one who insisted on coming out, getting married, finally being open about who we are. I never wanted this, not yet anyway. I did it for you! And my reward is, what? You dumping me. You selfish asshole.”

“Jonny,” Patrick frowns, mouth ticking a little. “You never wanted to come out?”

“No!” Jonny says, then shakes his head. “I mean, yeah, maybe, eventually, but not now, not this year. But it had to be this year, didn’t it, Pat? _Come on, what else are we gonna do this summer, Jon? We can have the big wedding our families want, it’ll be a great way to pass the time since we’re out so early again._ So I went along with you, and for what? To get dumped!”

“I didn’t know you didn’t want to,” Patrick says, his voice smaller this time. “You never said —”

“Jesus Christ, Patrick, you don’t get to be the wounded party in this, when you’re fucking breaking up with me!” Jonny viciously pleased when Patrick’s wounded expression tightens a little in anger.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Patrick asks, eyes narrowed.

“Uh, I did?” Jonny says flatly. “Like, every time this came up, I said the same thing: Let’s wait until we’re retired, and no one will give a shit about two broken down ex-hockey players confessing their love.” 

“But when I said we should get married last month,” Patrick says, enunciating the last two words precisely. “When I proposed. To you. And suggested this. You didn’t say anything, Jon.”

“I tried!” Jonny laughs bitterly. “But as per usual, you weren’t listening.”

“You said - “

“I said I wasn’t sure about this summer,” Jonny says, and watches as Patrick frowns, thinking back.

“But you also said you wanted to!“

“Actually, I said if you wanted to, I did, too,” Jonny says. “Which is not the same thing,” he adds, talking a long drink of his flat, warm beer and then wincing at it.

“No,” Patrick says, quieter again. “That’s definitely not the same thing.”

Jonny decides he needs another beer and stands up, and Patrick looks at him, shocked. “You’re not leaving!”

“I’m not leaving,” Jonny agrees. “I’m getting a beer that doesn’t taste like pisswater.”

“Oh,” Patrick says, looking at the beer at his feet. He must have kicked it over at some point, because it’s draining out onto the deck in weak dribbles, a slow, wet stain moving across the surface. “Get me one, too?”

Jonny shrugs and heads back inside, grabbing two beers and then after a moment, a bottle of tequila, and heading back to the porch. He pauses there, watching Patrick. He’s pacing, chewing on a fingernail, a habit Jonny’d thought he’d broken for the wedding but maybe, like all the other things Jonny’d thought he’d understood about Patrick, he’s been wrong about.

Jonny ignores the pang in his chest and pushes open the screen door. Patrick’s head whips around so fast it makes Jonny frown. Patrick looks… he looks terrified, and Jonny frowns at him.

“What’s the matter?”

“I thought you might not come back,” Patrick admits.

“Wishful thinking.” Jonny’s not letting Patrick off the hook that easily. “Pick your poison.” 

Patrick grabs the beer, resuming his pacing, and the nail-biting, glancing over at Jonny with a scowl. “Don’t give me shit about my nails, Jon, I swear to God.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Jonny says. “None of my business.” He doesn’t say “not anymore”, but he knows Patrick hears it anyway from how he flinches.

“I,” Patrick’s mouth opens and closes for a minute, like he’s going to argue with Jonny and then turns back to look out over the lake for a minute, jaw ticking. “I don’t understand,” Patrick says finally. “I thought… I thought we were solid, we were good?”

“So did I, until you told me you wanted to break up,” Jonny says.

“I didn’t - I never said that!”

“Of course you did,” Jonny scoffs. “About ten minutes ago when you said you wanted to call things off.”

“The wedding!” Patrick shouts back, angry again. “I said I wanted to call off this huge, stupid wedding, maybe elope somewhere. Because I have stupid pre-wedding jitters, like any normal person would. I _never_ said I wanted to break up!”

The words ring between them, and a loon makes a plaintive sound out on the lake like it’s replying. Jonny gapes at Patrick, mimicking the way Patrick had looked at him a few moments earlier.

“But - “

“Jesus, Jon, I thought you understood me better than that,” Patrick says, deflating. “I thought you understood _us_ better than that.”

“I did, too,” Jonny says, suddenly flooded with relief. “Oh, God, Pat, I’m so glad to hear you say that. I really thought we were breaking up.”

“Yeah, about that,” Patrick says, voice smaller, making Jonny freeze. The relief evaporates so fast it makes Jonny nauseous. “Pretty sure you just admitted you don’t actually want to marry me.”

“What?” Jonny’s afraid now, even more afraid than before. “Are you talking about what I said before? Because you have to know I didn’t mean that!”

“Sure you didn’t,” Patrick scoffs, draining the rest of his beer and reaching for the bottle. “Except for how you totally did.”

“I — “ Jonny pauses, his heart racing. “Okay, maybe I meant a little of it, but it didn’t have anything to do with how I feel about you! I love you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you!”

“Just not publicly,” Patrick says with a bitter grin.

“No, Pat, that’s not — “ Jonny’s floundering, and he forces himself to stop and take a deep breath. “So, uh. Yeah, I guess I didn’t really want to come out. Not yet, anyway.”

“Now you tell me,” Patrick interrupts snidely.

“But it wasn’t something I felt that strongly about,” Jonny says, ignoring Patrick’s words. “I was always honest about that, and then you proposed and it felt right. It felt like a good time to do it, if we weren’t going to wait. Like you said, a chance for us to take advantage of another long summer, a chance to make an announcement when people were still thinking about hockey. And I’ve always, always wanted to be your husband. Wanted you to be my husband. So of course I said yes, Pat. And I’ve never regretted it, even if it’s not on the timeline I had in my head.”

By the time he finishes speaking, Patrick’s looking back at him. His expression’s sad, resigned even, and Jonny wants to touch him, but he’s honestly not sure how Patrick’s gonna react. “Come on, Pat. You have to believe me. You know I love you, you know I’m in this with you.”

“I thought you were,” Patrick shrugs sadly. “But you said —”

“I was hurt!” Jonny insists. “I was blindsided and hurt and I lashed out, but I didn’t mean it,” he adds. “Just like you didn’t mean that we shouldn’t get married, I just blurted out something, just freaked out.”

“Sounded pretty true,” Patrick says. He’s softening, just the slightest bit, so Jonny presses his advantage. 

“You know how my temper is,” Jonny says, standing up and taking a step towards Patrick. When he doesn’t move away, Jonny takes another step. “I’m quick to get defensive and annoyed and angry, and I say stupid shit, but you also know me. You _know_ I love you.”

“I thought I did,” Patrick sighs, chewing on his bottom lip unsurely. “

“I love you,” Jonny swears. “More than hockey, more than the Hawks, more than my own flesh and blood.”

“Jonny,” Patrick says, eyes widening. “You don’t love anything more than hockey! Come on, it’s your life.”

“You’re my life,” Jonny corrects, taking another step, then another, until he’s close enough to take Patrick’s hand. “You’re the thing I love best in the world. The thing I live for. And yeah, I love hockey, always have. But a huge part of that is because hockey means you, means us, together, conquering the world, turning an original six franchise around. Winning cups, having a fucking blast out there for at least eighty two games a year.” Jonny shrugs. “I wouldn’t love it like I do if I didn’t have you by my side. I couldn’t, when being on the ice with you is the best part of it.”

“Oh,” Patrick breathes.

“And if tomorrow I lost hockey but I still had you, yeah, it’d suck and I’d probably be a miserable bastard for awhile. But I’d have you and I’d get through it. But losing you? Pat. I’d never recover from that.”

“Jonny,” Patrick says, eyes searching Jonny’s, before he breathes out long and low. “Really?”

“Always,” Jonny whispers, bringing Patrick’s hand to his mouth and kissing his knuckles.

“Me, too,” Patrick says, a tear spilling down his cheek. “But —”

“No buts,” Jonny says. He wipes away the tear and pulls Patrick forward, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him until Patrick relaxes into his embrace. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, so much,” Patrick sniffles, and Jonny can feel his own throat thicken. “And I want to marry you, I _do_ I just don’t know why I let everyone make this wedding into a huge production, with two hundred people and the fucking caterers and the cake - Jonny, picking out that stupid fucking gluten-friendly, vegan cake almost broke me, between your mom and my mom arguing about flavors and my sisters needling me about a second, “for real” cake for the non-hockey robot guests — and the, the menu and the stupid linen suits and the invitations and the wedding license and writing my stupid vows and — ” 

“Shh,” Jonny soothes, pulling back to take Patrick’s face in his hands. “It’s all done now, we got through it. Now all we have left to do is show up tomorrow in those stupid linen suits and say our stupid vows and enjoy the stupid gluten-friendly, vegan cake.” He smiles gently at Patrick, who huffs at him.

“It’s not funny,” Patrick grumps, but his lips quirk in a small smile.

“It’s definitely not,” Jonny intones seriously, making the smile on Patrick’s face grow. “But at the end of the stupid ceremony, we’ll be married. And at the end of the stupid reception, we get to go on our excellent honeymoon.”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, biting the inside of his cheek. “That’s kinda gonna rock, gotta admit. Golfing in Finland, man.”

“Stick with me, I’ll take you places,” Jonny says, brushing his thumb over Patrick’s dimple when it appears again. “Are we okay?”

“I guess?” 

“Was that a question?”

“No, we’re okay,” Patrick says. “Mostly,” he tacks on, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re gonna have to make it up to me.”

“Mmm hmm,” Jonny hums. “I will.” He lean down to kiss Patrick. “I’m gonna spend the rest of my life proving how much I want to be married to you. If you still want to marry me?”

“More than anything,” Patrick says earnestly. “And I’m sorry, too. I never meant to make you think I doubted you, or us, for a second.”

“I believe you,” Jonny kisses Patrick, a soft, chaste kiss that he pulled back from before it got more heated. “We good?”

“So good,” Patrick sighs into Jonny’s mouth. “I guess we’re really doing this, huh?”

“We can cancel the party, you know,” Jonny says, looking out at the yard where the tents are set up and the gazebo is gleaming and ready to host the ceremony. “Tell everyone to go home and just go somewhere and get married, just us.” He winces. “Well, and our immediate families, because I prefer my balls where they are, not wherever your sisters would put them if we left them out.”

“No shit,” Patrick agrees with a shudder. “But no, no, I don’t want to do that. I want to stand in our yard, in front of our families and friends, and tell them how much I love you.”

“Pat,” Jonny says helplessly.

“Yeah, I know,” Patrick agrees, kissing Jonny. “So, no, we’re not cancelling.”

“So what you’re saying is,”tomorrow we’re gonna fill this place up.””

“Oh my God,” Patrick groans, banging his forehead on Jonny’s. “You’re so corny.”

“I think you mispronounced romantic,” Jonny replies with a chuckle, laughing when Patrick pinches him.

“Can’t believe I’m marrying such a lamer,” Patrick says. “Dad jokes since you were eighteen years old.”

“You know it,” Jonny nods. “And you love it.”

“That I do,” Patrick agrees, settling back in Jonny’s arms. 

“I’m almost afraid to check what time it is,” Jonny says a few minutes later. “We’re gonna be so late if we don’t shower soon.”

“In a minute,” Patrick says. “I need a little more of this peace before the craziness descends.”

Jonny kisses his hair, turning Patrick to face the lake and snugging up behind him, his arms wrapped around Patrick. They stand on the porch for another few minutes, looking out at the lake together by unspoken agreement until Patrick shakes himself and looks at his watch.

“Holy shit, we’re really are gonna be late.”

They’re not late, but it feels like they don’t have a second’s peace until late the next day, when Jonny finds himself standing on the porch again, alone this time, as the reception winds down.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Patrick says from behind him, and Jonny turns to him with a smile. He holds out an arm for Patrick to slide under.

“It was fun,” Jonny says simply. 

“It was,” Patrick agrees easily.

“Not as fun as the next part, though.”

“The honeymoon?”

“The rest of our lives.”


End file.
